


Boogieman Isn't Gay (Part 2), The

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-13
Updated: 2003-01-13
Packaged: 2018-11-20 06:17:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11330217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Krycek is discovered.





	Boogieman Isn't Gay (Part 2), The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Boogieman Isn't Gay (Part 2), The

### Boogieman Isn't Gay (Part 2), The

#### by Jamwired

Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Alex Krycek. The X-files and its characters are the property of Chris Carter and Twentieth Century Fox Film. Copyright infringement is not intended. 

This story has no sex but is a slash story. It contains slashy situations of the m/m kind. If you find this offensive, please leave now. Consider yourself warned. 

Thank you to my beta reader, Dana. 

* * *

The Boogieman Isn't Gay  
Part 2 

* * *

Let's reflect upon our day, shall we? Jesus, it's a good thing you don't look under your bed. How the hell did I wind up under your bed, you wonder? I was watching you again, big surprise there, and I guess you started having what I would call an erotic dream. 

It wasn't really a long dream. It lasted probably two minutes. Of course, it might have lasted longer if I hadn't been hovering over you. I know, I know. It was a dumb thing for me to do. But the way you looked... I can't be expected not to react when the man I'm obsessed with is writhing all over his bed with a hard-on, now can I? 

So, what did I do? I decided to make the dream a little more real. I've had wet dreams before where I woke up before getting to the actual wet part. And if I had any conscience, I may find that a good thing. After all, guys get teased for having wet dreams. But let's face it, the last time I had sex was...well, let's not go there. So, naturally, I like wet dreams. Sure, it sucks having to clean up afterwards, but in certain situations, wet dreams can be more erotic than actual sex. 

So, I was at the edge of your bed about to kiss you, or touch you, or do anything but stand there with my tongue hanging out of my mouth, when your eyes opened. Can I tell you how scared shitless I was? Lucky for me, I guess it was dark, and you were staring at the ceiling. I dropped to the floor like I was avoiding a bullet and shuffled under the bed. 

Apparently, I'm very good at being quiet when I have to; you still hadn't noticed me. I guess it would have been hard to notice anything, though, since you had other things on your mind. Or rather, one thing. 

It would have been so much better if you would have just stayed sleeping. Do you know how hard it is to stay perfectly still when the guy you're stuck on masturbates three feet above you? I don't assume you do. 

Well, after that little escapade, I stayed under the bed. It wasn't for comfort. Trust me, laying on my stomach with an erection digging into the floor is not my idea of cozy. But I couldn't just jump out from under the bed. 

//Krycek! What are you doing here?!// 

//I was checking for dust bunnies. All clear. I guess I'll be going now.// 

Then you decide how to show me your thanks. Yeah, right. 

I guess I laid there for quite a while. I didn't want to fall asleep, but I didn't have anything else to do. I mean, maybe if you were more of a messy person and had shoved some dirty underwear beneath your bed earlier in the day, I might have had something to do for a while. But no. An hour with nothing to do in the dark, and I fell asleep. Can you blame a guy? 

When I woke up, I was still a little groggy. I couldn't figure out why my stomach and chest hurt and why I was hearing an alarm clock buzzing. I don't own an alarm clock. And my arm hurt. Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is to wear a prosthesis over night? I hoped my skin was still in tact. It was then that I remembered where I was. 

It would have been perfect if I was on top of the bed waking up next to you. Well, maybe not. You'd have to throw into the equation that you wouldn't totally hate my guts. Otherwise things would not be pleasant at all. 

//Wake up, honey.// 

//What the hell are you doing in my bed, Krycek?!// 

//Don't you remember last night?// 

//Aw, baby, of course I remember.// 

And then you take me in your arms and... Uh-huh. 

I can see your feet from here. You don't know how glad I am that your sheets are hanging off the bed. I'm sure if they weren't you'd be able to see me under here. But as it is, it's rather a nice view. I can hear you getting ready for work. See you wiggle your toes as you hum. Prepping and shaving. Putting on deodorant. I wonder what kind of deodorant you use. I'll have to check that out once you leave. I have to admit, I've never been here in the daytime before. 

I keep expecting someone else to show up. I'm so used to going places in the middle of the night. There's not as much distraction at three in the morning as there is at three in the afternoon. 

How the hell long does it take you to get ready for work anyway? Jesus, I'd think you would have finished by now. I keep wondering what you were doing in the shower that it took you so long. And now all you have to do is shave and get on a suit. How hard is that? 

I thought I was uncomfortable thirty minutes ago. I think my leg is asleep. I can't feel it. Maybe I should just jump out and surprise you. 

//Surprise! -- no, don't say anything -- I just slept under your bed and I've got a crick in my neck the size of Texas. What's that? Is there anything you can do to make it feel better? Well, why don't you strip down and start with a massage.// 

I've got to stop doing this. I feel the need to bang my head really hard on the carpet a few times, but if I do that, you may hear the noise. 

Finally! I thought you'd never finish. At least now I can get the hell out from under the bed. Hopefully you won't come back in your room for anything. Maybe I should wait until I hear you leave the apartment. Ah, screw it. I've got a gun. If you do come back in here, I'll just take it out and make some lame excuse about searching the place. 

Oh, man. That's so much better. Let's see what you keep in the bathroom. Wow. I look like shit. And what do we have in drawer number one? Hm. Not very exciting. Not that I was expecting a pair of fur-lined handcuffs and a well used tube of lubricant or anything. Cabinets are pretty empty. I guess you either don't clean, or you keep your cleaning stuff in the kitchen. Looking at the shower, I assume it's not the latter. 

I wonder if you're eating breakfast right now. Maybe I should just go in there and join you. 

//Bagel and coffee? Why, yes, I'd like some, my little honey bear.// 

"Freeze!" 

Shit, no. I'm hearing things. 

"Turn around slowly, Krycek." 

Now would be a good time to come up with one of my snappy fantasy comebacks. 

//I'm not really here. I died last night, and my ghost has come to profess its undying love for you.// 

Somehow, I don't think you'll buy that. 

"Put your hands where I can see them, and walk out of the bathroom slowly." What else can I do? I guess I could tackle you and make a run for the door. Though I don't think I'd make it very far considering you're one arm up on me, and you've had a decent night's sleep. "Face the wall; don't move." 

I guess it's up to you what happens next. I don't think a screw and a proposal are on your list of items for the day. 

"What are you doing here, Krycek?" 

Ooh, I like that. Your movements may be impersonal, but a guy takes what he can get. Ah, a little to the left. Bingo. Moron. That's not a gun. Yeah, figured it out, did you? Damn it. Now _that_ is a gun. My only one too. Why the hell I came here with only one weapon, I don't know. I could slap myself for being so careless. 

"I asked you a question. Or are you just going to stand there and hump the wall?" 

Hey, I wasn't humping the wall. 

"I came to...to give you something." Yeah, that's it. Just pat me down again, and this time I'll show you. 

"Yeah?" 

Yeah? Yeah, what? Jesus, I hate one word answers. 

"Can I turn around?" 

I feel like a little kid suddenly. Can I turn around, huh? Can I, can I? Please, please, let me turn around! 

"Slowly." 

Ouch. If you'd said that any more coldly, my balls might freeze. Okay, this is better. I might want to stare at your eyes if I wasn't so busy staring at your gun...the other one. 

"Well?" 

"Put the gun down?" 

I can see the way you actually consider it, looking at me and wondering if I'll try something. 

//Please put the gun down, and I'll give you a blow job?// 

Actually, if it gave you a power trip, I really wouldn't give a shit if you kept the gun. 

"I won't do anything. I swear." 

"Empty words from a liar." 

"What the hell am I gonna do? Yank off my arm and beat you with it?" 

//Or I could just beat you off with my good arm...// 

It's funny, the look on your face. Confused at first and then an odd acknowledgment. Like you'd been too busy trying to analyze the situation until now to notice the prosthesis. Man, this is what I call a Kodak moment. At least it got you to lower the gun a little. 

"I'm not gonna try anything." 

You lean back and glare at me when I shuffle forward. Well, this is it. I'm getting closer, and by now you must know that I don't need to be this close to hand you anything. As a matter of fact, being this close, I don't think I could get anything out of my jacket if I tried. If lady luck is with me, surely she'd grant me a kiss? 

Holy! Fuck, oh, man. Or maybe not. Jesus, my jaw. Leave it to you to punch with your gun. I'll just roll around on the floor. You can leave now, okay? Damn it; that hurts. I guess this means a blow job is out of the question. Not that I think I could get my jaw to work properly at the moment. 

"Get up, you sick bastard." 

Talk about homophobia. Or maybe it's just the fact that it was me trying to kiss you. I stagger to stand, and finally settle for stumbling to the bed and sitting on it. 

"Did I say you could sit on my bed?" 

"Am I too dirty for it? I didn't think it could get much worse after last night." 

Your expressions are really quite amusing. I wish to God that I had a camera. Didn't think I knew about that, did you? Well, how could you have known? You probably just assumed I broke in early this morning. Oh, no more shocked face. You compose yourself very well in awkward situations. 

Now what to do with me? It's obvious that you don't know. I think what you really want to do is beat the living shit out of me, but putting me behind bars would probably give you some satisfaction as well. That might be a little difficult since I'm not wanted by any government agencies. I could just lean back on the bed and spread my legs. I don't think you'd like that. Or maybe you would. Maybe you really get off on hating me and wanting to hurt me. Maybe I should call you "Daddy". I bet some sick part of you would really enjoy me screaming it at the top of my lungs as I come. 

"What's it going to be?" I scoot back on the bed and get more relaxed. "You don't have anything on me. The best you could hope for is breaking and entering. But even then, with the way this country works, I could sue you for assault. My jaw'll be bruising up real pretty." 

Priceless. Have I told you how well you do anger? 

"But you're not going to do that. Are you, Krycek?" 

This time I do spread my legs a little. And I notice that you don't look as angry about it as when I tried to kiss you. I smile. 

"And you're not going to turn me in." I let my hand travel down to the waistband of my pants. "Are you, Skinner?" 

* * *

The End 

* * *

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Jamwired


End file.
